


Tomorrow

by grenadille



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Prostitution, References to Depression, Substance Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grenadille/pseuds/grenadille
Summary: Minseok doesn't want to sleep because then there'll be tomorrow.Sehun wants to sleep so he can forget today.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello!  
> Welcome to this story! I've had the idea in my head for a little while, but what really tied it together was something I tweeted out. This is unbeta'd and a little experimental, there is no update schedule, but I put all of my heart in this so I hope you'll enjoy! If you do, don't hesitate to drop a comment, I love to talk and stuff :D  
> Keep an eye out for the tags, as I might add more as the story progresses!
> 
> Many thanks for reading, and have a nice day!

Minseok tilts the bottle of soju back and closes his eyes as he lets the cool liquid go down his throat. It tastes sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. It’s just what he needs at the moment. A drop of alcohol slips out of the corner of his lips, rolls along his cheek and falls somewhere on the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t care, nor does he really notice.   
The man lets out a breathy chuckle for no particular reason and dips his hand into his pocket, fumbling around before he fishes out a lighter. On his lap, there’s a dried squid, and if he weren’t drunk, the smell would bother him. Minseok picks it up and pushes his thumb into the lighter. A flame bursts out and he stares at it for a moment, fascinated. He places the lighter under one of the tentacles and watches it curl in the heat.  
He wonders what he’s doing here.  
The tentacle changes color and begins to smoke. He releases the lighter and tears off the charred bit of squid with his teeth. It’s tough, it doesn’t taste as good as he remembered, but the fishy flavor contrasts nicely enough with the alcohol. That's what he believes at least, but he wouldn’t really know. He's completely pissed. 

Minseok feels pathetic for being like this, for being so predictable. He saw the breakup coming, and down inside he didn't really care. So why was he there, on the floor with a bottle of soju in one hand and a dried squid in the other? Hell, he doesn't even remember how he got the squid and why he thought it would be nice to do some alcohol and food pairing when really, he was just out to get drunk. 

Minseok stares up at a lone street lamp. It keeps flickering, shining bright for a moment only to die again. He thinks that they have a lot in common. 

When the light starts wavering, though, when his sight becomes hazy, the man decides it's time to go. He stands up, runs a hand down his face, furrows his brows. He walks and walks, aimlessly making his way through the streets of Seoul. Part of him likes how quiet it is at night, but he also hates how loud his thoughts are. Minseok's mind is fuzzy and his limbs feel heavy. Maybe he shouldn’t have had all this alcohol, but he isn’t sure he would feel better without it. 

He's not quite sure where he is anymore, but he keeps walking. This part of the town is unfamiliar, but the red lights are pretty. They surround him and feel almost warm on his skin. But perhaps it's the energy of the district. He isn't sure. Either way, it feels lively here. It’s somewhat distracting. Minseok stops to look around. His eyes fall on one the display windows, or rather what's behind them, and that’s when he realizes where he is. There’s a pretty woman clad in a little black dress— well, if it could be called a dress. The fabric is sheer and doesn’t cover much. The red lights cast upon her skin make her glow, and Minseok finds himself staring. She smiles at him, suggestively. He looks away. He doesn't know if it's the alcohol or her gaze, but he feels stuffy when he was shivering moments ago. The red light district, that's where he is.  
A quiet laugh leaves his lips because he could have been the typical guy who'd come here after getting dumped, but he’s better than that. Minseok continues walking. In front of him is a silhouette with long, white legs that make his heart race. It makes him wonder if it really is that bad to buy sex. His relationship had been so dead prior to the breakup that it'd been a while since he'd had decent sex. Maybe he just needed to get laid?  
The silhouette disappears and he frowns.  
Not tonight.

Somehow, Minseok ends up finding his way back to his apartment. _Home_. However, it feels unfamiliar. The alcohol makes it a bit better, at least, but it's probably not enough.   
It's late, and he feels fatigue settling into his bones, weighing him down. He should sleep and he knows it. Tomorrow, he has work. Tomorrow, he has to do all the things he usually does. But that's also why he doesn't want to sleep. Because tomorrow, he has work. Tomorrow will be the same as today. Tomorrow, he'll wake up in the same apartment. Alone. And while he didn't really care about his girlfriend anymore, he dreads feeling cold and lonely in his own bed. Minseok reluctantly changes into fresh, comfortable clothes before getting into bed. It feels empty.   
He feels empty.   
He tries to fight off the tiredness that wants to take him away. Maybe tomorrow won't come if he doesn't fall asleep. Minseok keeps his eyes open until they hurt, until he feels tears pricking the corners. And when a lone tear rolls down his cheek, he doesn’t know whether it’s his eye that sheds it, or his heart.

Minseok ends up losing his fight to sleep. 

 

☾

 

In Cheongnyangni 588, there's a boy. A boy who once had the world between his fingertips. It slipped and shattered on the ground, however, leaving him to pick up the pieces by himself. It's not easy. The shards are small and there's so many. His fingertips, who once held the world, are now bleeding. He wonders if picking up the pieces is worth it. 

Sehun isn't sure how he ended up here, in the red light district. There's barely enough fabric on his shorts to cover his ass, and his top is so thin that the cold air of the night seeps through and envelopes him in the worst of ways. He sneezes and rubs his arms with his hands in an attempt to warm himself up. His skin feels rough under his palms, probably because of the goosebumps.   
Sehun hates it here. He hates the people, and he hates what he's become. He hates those middle-aged men who loop an arm around his waist and drunkenly whisper, "What's your price, babe?" He hates that he does have a price, that he does follow them in their car, and that he lets them have their way with him. He used to like the money, but now, he isn't sure anymore. There isn't much he can do, though. Sehun fights to survive. And sometimes, his gaze meets the eyes of another girl and he sees a soft smile, an encouraging, fleeting touch. It's comforting, and it helps him get through the night. But in the end, he feels gross all the same.   
Sehun doesn't know how many cars he gets in every night. Quite frankly, he doesn't think he wants to know. Some of them are cramped and smell old, but some them are new and comfortable. Sometimes he wonders how many relationships he's ruining by selling his dignity, but he does his best to will the thoughts away. It's best if he doesn't think of his patrons as humans. For all he knows, they probably don't think of him as human either. He wonders when he also proceeded to sell his morals away. Sehun doesn't like what he's become, he doesn't recognize himself.   
When he looks into the mirror, he doesn't see a boy anymore. His innocence is gone, and there's nothing he can do to have it back. However, he doesn't see a man either.  
He doesn't know what he sees, but he knows he doesn't like what he sees. 

It's ironic how he spends his nights in cars but still has to walk home. By the end of the night he's a sweaty mess, his entire body aches, and every step is a challenge. He always wonders if he'll be able to make it home. If it's not the exhaustion that makes him drop, it’ll be someone. One of those pair of eyes that follow him down the streets. Or maybe the drunkards who insult him as he walks past the bars. Sometimes they spit at his face, but he's grateful it's not a punch, though he doesn’t know if it matters much at this point.

Sehun’s legs are weak, but they always manage to take him back to his apartment. It’s small, so cramped and unkept it sometimes it reminds him of some of the cars he gets in. He didn’t luck out with it as it’s on the top floor of the building, where it gets freezing in winter, and unbearably hot in summer. But it’s an apartment and Sehun feels grateful that he has a roof over his head. He knows some of the girls don’t have this privilege. They might make more money than him, but he can see it in their eyes that they don’t spend it well. He can see their hands shake, and their eyes frantically search for someone, something that can make their night better.

Sehun doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink. Cigarettes are expensive, and they probably wouldn’t do much to assuage his worries. He indulges in alcohol sometimes, but never on the job as he fears enough for his life. Sure, it would be unbelievably easy to go to work while intoxicated, and he understands why others do it, but he’s too scared. He doesn’t have friends to watch his back, and while he doesn’t have anything to lose, he still has a will to live. Instead, Sehun eats. He stocks up on instant noodles: beef, chicken, duck if he’s feeling fancy… Sometimes, he even eats the extremely spicy ones. His mouth burns as he goes to sleep, his heart races and his forehead is moist with sweat, but at least it makes him feel something.

But that night, Sehun doesn’t feel like eating. There’s a dull pain in his lower back, and it’s too present for him to feel hungry. So, as soon as he steps into his tiny, messy apartment, he rushes to the cabinet and pulls out two pills before filling up a glass with tap water. His fingertips push the first pill, a painkiller, to the back of his throat. Sehun washes it down with water and lets out a shaky breath before doing the same with the other pill. However, it doesn’t go down. It mixes with the water instead, coating his tongue with bitter promises of a peaceful night. Sehun swallows everything down, there’s nothing else he can do. He needs the medicine to shut down his thoughts, and most importantly, he wants today to end.

Sehun slips into his bed — a thin mattress laid over the floor— and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to take over him. And he always thinks that those few moments where his consciousness starts to drift are the worst because he has no control over his thoughts, and it’s in those moments he’s grateful for the sleeping pills because he knows it won’t last long. He wants to sleep. Tomorrow will come faster that way, and even if tomorrow probably won’t be much different, tomorrow is still another day.

 

☾


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read 588 as "Oh-Pal-Pal" it sounds cooler.

Minseok isn't sure how he ended up here, again. It's starting to feel familiar and he doesn’t know whether or not he likes it. He probably doesn’t, but it’s not like he has anything else to do.  
It's a different brand of soju tonight. Stronger, drier. It burns the back of his throat as it goes down, but it doesn't feel bad. Minseok enjoys the way alcohol makes him feel: less agitated, and it mutes his thoughts to an extent.

But if he isn't careful, he trips and falls. He thinks about how pathetic he is. About how he has everything to be happy: a job with a decent pay, a roof over his head, and food on his plate. There are people who have it worse out there. Red lights glow his way to remind him that in 588, there are people who probably don’t have it easy. But perhaps they enjoy their job? It looks… Lively. The number of cars that drive in and out of the red light district, picking up and dropping off girls in skimpy clothes is impressive.  
Minseok doesn’t think he’d like to work there; it’s probably too stressful.

He tips the bottle of soju back and waits for the cool, burning liquid to fill his mouth and his heart. But it doesn’t. He frowns.  
Right, he’s drunk it all.

It’s annoying, he thinks, how much he lets his life control him. He feels helpless in this world, like a dead leaf swayed by the wind, tumbling and tumbling down a black hole, a hole with no light, no end. And maybe he shouldn’t be so dramatic. Maybe he shouldn’t be so sad when right in front of him, in 588, there are people who do not have a hold of their lives anymore.  
Does he, though? Does he have a hold of his life?

Alcohol used to numb his thoughts, used to make him feel like he was alive, but it doesn’t do much anymore. His body is probably used to it, but he keeps it around, as if he were to keep an old friend by his side.  
Minseok knows he’s drunk, but he considers buying another bottle of soju. However, he doesn’t have it in him to push himself up from the cold hard ground. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes along with his lighter. Hopefully, this will soothe his nerves. Minseok lights the cigarette up and stares at it for a few moments. It’s fascinating how it keeps burning even though there’s no flame. He wishes he could feel the same way.  
He feels completely burnt out.  
The first puff of smoke is always the nicest. His taste buds feel numb from the alcohol, but the spiciness of the cigarette still comes through, and most importantly, it warms him up.

Minseok allows himself to bask in the red lights emanating from the streets in front of him as the smoke slowly clouds his mind. He observes the cars as they disappear in the district, and come out with one more person. Minseok wonders if it’s a fun job, getting paid to fuck.  
Does it get boring? Does it get so boring it feels like being a lifeless machine, repeating the same tasks, over and over? Does it get so boring for them that they lose all sense of self?  
He considers it for a moment and comes to the conclusion that yes, it may be the case.  
After all, a car is just as confining as a cubicle. But they, at least, get to meet people. And they probably get pleasure out of what they’re doing, right?  
For a brief moment, Minseok’s clouded judgment tricks him into believing that he should become a luxury prostitute but he soon realizes there’s probably no market for small, chubby men like him. Besides, he doubts he’d enjoy it (but then again, he doesn’t enjoy anything these days, aside from alcohol and cigarettes).

Minseok is pulled out of his drunken thoughts when a pair of long, white, and shiny legs flash past him. He looks at the red lights again and feels angry with himself.

Then, the calm of the night is broken. He hears loud voices next him, and he takes a few moments to understand what they’re saying.

_Dirty faggot!_  
_You’re a disgrace to your family!  
_ _No one wants you here._

The man looks up and sees a pair of eyes. It’s hard to decipher them, but he sees a mixture of fear and apathy. Something that doesn’t make sense but is completely relatable.  
And what is the most surprising is that he sees himself, in those eyes.

Minseok tosses his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and stands up. The boy with long white legs is tall, taller than him, but seems so small and fragile.  
For once, he feels something.  
A desire to react.  
A desire to act.

He moves in front of the boy. Then, he’s not quite sure what happens.  
The shouts don’t stop, and he thinks he shouts, too.  
Next thing he knows, there’s a loud thud, a dull ache that spreads across his face, and his knuckles hurt, too.

He sees red. Not lights.  
Blood.

“Are you okay?” The boy calls frantically.

Minseok grunts when a crumpled up napkin is pressed to his nose. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he supposes he’s grateful because at least someone cares.   
The boy leads him away from the bar. He allows himself to be pulled along.  
It’s in those moments Minseok is grateful for the alcohol. He's sure his face would hurt a lot more if he weren't drunk, but at least he got to punch that asshole.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He looks up at the boy and their eyes meet. Once again Minseok sees himself in their reflection.

 

 

Sehun never planned on getting insulted tonight, and even less on getting a stranger involved in the situation. But now that the damage is done, he has to be responsible. Besides, it's probably his fault and he simply can't leave the man who stood up for him alone, especially when he’s piss drunk and his nose is bleeding. 

“Why did you do this…” He mumbles. _I could have handled it. I probably deserved it._  

Communicating with the man is a bit difficult, but Sehun manages to get directions to his place. It's ironic, he thinks, how he has to look over him now. He feels sorry for him, but at the same time, his heart is pounding hard against his ribcage. This is the most innocent human contact he's had in months. 

The man stays quiet during the entire walk, firmly holding the napkin to his nose and shifting it around every once in a while when it gets soaked through. Sehun doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes the silence between them. There are no insults or crude words thrown his way. He wishes that all of his nights could be like this. It’s stupid, but he really enjoys the man’s presence. He feels safe around him.

When the stranger stops in front of a tall building, Sehun feels his heart sink. He hates himself for feeling so attached already, but it's only normal when the only attention he receives is negative. 

“Will you be okay?” 

The man nods.   
Sehun's lips quirk downwards. He takes a step back.   
Just when he's about to say goodbye, the man's free hand reaches down to grab the hem of his hoodie. He pulls it over his head, struggling a bit, before handing it over. 

“You look like you're cold.”

His words are somewhat slurred, but they're genuine.  
Sehun stares at the man, and for a moment he doesn't believe it. He feels wary, even. It’s been a while since someone is this kind to him.  
Sehun puts on the hoodie. It smells of cigarettes and alcohol, and maybe it’s a little too snug, but it’s warm and comforting. 

“Thank you,” he attempts a smile.  
“You're… Welcome.”

And just like this, the kind stranger disappears.   
Sehun’s smile fades in an instant.

He stares at the closed door, lingers around the building for a while, then leaves, dragging his feet. Home isn't too far from here, so why does it seem so far away? And why does his heart still feel so cold when he has the stranger's hoodie on?

The boy's mind is racing as he slowly makes his way up the stairs leading to his tiny, cramped apartment.  
Sehun closes the door, and that's when the silence truly registers in his brain. That’s when his uncontrollable thoughts come back and get the best of him.  
He feels stupid. Stupid for being out there in the streets, stupid for allowing himself to be taken advantage of and treated like less than a human being, stupid for getting a stranger involved in his misery... Stupid for enjoying the attention, and stupid for feeling empty without it. 

The boy takes the hoodie off and throws it across the room. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and cloud his vision, but they don't fall. Maybe that's for the best. Sehun doesn't want to see, doesn't want to feel. 

He reaches into the cabinet and pops two pills out of their packaging. Sehun swallows them dry in hopes that they will numb his pain and silence his thoughts.   
He feels like a coward who runs away from his true self and refuses to face the truth.

Sehun collapses in the corner of his small apartment. He allows himself to cry and the tears feel scorching against his cool skin. 

He doesn't know how long he stays there, but he doesn’t make it into bed when sleep comes around. He just wants to forget today. 

 

☾

 

Minseok stumbles into his apartment. There’s nothing on his mind aside from the pain in his face and the taste of iron in his mouth. It all becomes a little more intense with each pulsation of his heart.  
He’s upset. More than that, he’s completely pissed off. Minseok knows he has to go to bed now and sleep it off, but that means tomorrow will only come faster.

 

☾

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I'm so happy I updated this! It was/is my birthday today (depending on your timezone hehe), and lectures have officially ended. Hope you enjoyed this chapter c:


	3. Chapter 3

Sehun stands in front of the mirror, naked. The boy in front of him stares back. He reaches forward, stopping when his fingertips meet cool glass.  
Sehun frowns.  
The boy looks familiar. He’s thin. His pale skin is splattered with purple, blue, green, and yellow. The bruises won’t go away. He always gets new ones.  
But what is the most particular about this boy is his eyes. When Sehun looks into them, he can’t see anything.

He’s an empty shell and he can’t bear to look anymore. It disgusts him.

Every day is the same.  
He sleeps for most of it, takes a shower, then gets ready for work.  
He puts on stockings and shorts, a tiny black top, a vest (not a bulky one, because he still has to look appealing), black liner to enhance his eyes and red on his lips. Sehun feels like a clown. And maybe that's what he is: he puts on a show for money, but instead of giving laughs, he gives pleasure.

The sun is setting. Darkness closes in on him like a monster whose sole goal is to suck out his soul. Sehun doesn't understand why the monster keeps going after him – in his eyes, he's lost it all already. 

The boy pops a painkiller in his mouth and washes it down with a glass of tap water. The medicine isn’t as effective as it used to be, but he enjoys whatever slight buzz he can get out of it. 

The next step of his routine is stepping out of his apartment and making his way to the red light district, but today is a little different.  
His eyes scan the room before stopping on a dark blue lump on his mattress.  
The stranger’s hoodie.

Today is the day he returns it.

Sehun picks it up and stares at it for a moment. He reads over the bold white print one more. _National University of Korea._ A kind, educated stranger.  
He buries his nose into the hoodie and closes his eyes. It doesn't smell like much now, only because he slept with it every night since the incident. The acrid odor of cigarette smoke went away after a few days, making way for a faint scent of cologne. Manly, yet delicate.  
Sehun can’t help but wonder about this stranger. What type of person is he? Why is he getting drunk by himself on weekdays? Why did he even bother standing up for him?  
Sehun snaps out of his daze. It's not his place to wonder such things.

However, he’s grateful, and he wants to let the man know.

There’s a plant on the kitchen counter. It looks almost out of place in the mess of his tiny apartment. Sehun got it for himself. He loves plants and wanted something to look after to lessen his loneliness. But he wants to give the man something to show his gratitude, and this is the only thing he has.

Sehun leaves his apartment, hoodie in one hand, plant in the other. He dislikes stepping outside. There’s a constant nagging feeling that he's missing something, a constant feeling of nakedness and vulnerability. Maybe he should get a knife for protection, but he doesn't know if it will solve the problem, as the root of his issues is much, much deeper.

Sehun knows the way to the man’s house. He walks past it every day and his heart flutters in his chest, the memory of a kind stranger who stood up for him filling his mind. But as soon as he’s past the apartment, his heart sinks again and loneliness takes over, weighing him down. Tonight, though, he’ll get to see him.

 

After that night where he stood up for the boy, Minseok decided to stop drinking outside as showing up to work with a bruise on his face had been a wake-up call.  
Minseok is a discreet person. He doesn’t like being the center of too much attention, and having the whole office fret over him was uncomfortable, to say the least. Moreover, violence never is something that comes to him naturally, so this made him think that it was time to reduce his alcohol consumption.  
At least, he doesn't regret using his fists that night. Knowing that he’s not devoid of empathy is reassuring. He stood up for someone, and despite the fact that he, unfortunately, had to resort to violence, he did something good.

But, as he pulls on his cigarette continuously, filling his bedroom with white smoke, he does feel like there's not much to him. Like he's not accomplishing anything. Like he’s sailing against the wind, like he’s swimming against the tide.  
Minseok can't look into the future. He can't look forward to tomorrow, can't be excited at the thought of starting another day.

The man’s eyebrows knit together when his cigarette turns bitter. One more butt joins the pile of crushed, dead cigarettes in the ashtray. He doesn't know how much he's smoked today. Judging by the way his apartment smells, it must have been a lot.  
It's been a whole two days since he last had alcohol and he doesn't like it. Replacing alcohol with cigarettes doesn’t work, as he’s noticed, and it’s not any healthier either. Cigarettes won't get him in fistfights, though. But cigarettes don't fill up the void in his heart.

Minseok looks back at his laptop. The screen light is blinding. He closes it, and just then, hears his doorbell ring. It takes him aback. He isn’t expecting anyone tonight. It’s just a regular night in, him and his thoughts. Maybe it’s his ex? She must have forgotten something at his place and is here to pick it up.  
The thought of seeing her again makes him sick. It reminds him of the heavy loneliness looming over his head. He can’t possibly face her like this, not when he’s so miserable, and not when his apartment is full of smoke. Minseok opens the window and takes a much-needed breath of fresh air. He looks down, and much to his surprise sees a tuft of brown hair, which he can’t identify. This isn’t his girlfriend.  
The man pushes himself out of his chair and makes his way towards the interphone, answering hesitantly.

_“H-Hello?”_

The boyish voice is unsure.

_“Um. Wow. I’m actually… The guy from the other night? I have your hoodie and I thought you might want it back…”_

It takes Minseok a few moments to process the information before he can give a proper answer.  
“Yeah, okay.” It comes out blunt, and it’s not what he intended. “Second floor, door on the right.” Opening the door to a stranger is weird, he thinks. He could have gone downstairs to pick up his hoodie, but he has to make him climb up the stairs. He has to make it awkward for both of them, and on top of that, his apartment probably still smells like a house on fire. But does he care?  
Minseok opens the door and waits for the stranger to walk up the stairs, the sound of his light footsteps becoming progressively louder. A strange ting runs throughout his body. He wouldn’t describe it as excitement, but it’s certainly something other than the emptiness he feels every day.

The boy makes his way up, a tiny smile on his face. Minseok reads mild embarrassment ­— probably due to the way he was dressed, he wouldn’t like to show this much skin either — but also something else. Was it relief? Happiness?

“I hope you don’t find this too creepy,” the boy starts, “but I saw that you had written your name on the label inside the sweater. And I remembered… Um, where you live.”  
A quiet chuckle makes slips past the man’s lips. It’s not creepy, it’s surprisingly thoughtful. “Ah,” The boy’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he extends a green plant forward. Minseok eyes it, puzzled. “I got this for you. To, you know, thank you for the other night. I really like plants, so I thought you might like to have one in your apartment, too?”  
Minseok is flustered. This boy, who is very obviously financially (and most certainly emotionally) struggling, took the time and money to get him a gift. It’s at this moment that he realizes what he did that night had a huge impact on the younger. And, he’s in fact quite pleased to see him.  
“No problem,” he says after a little while, a kind smile playing on his face. He grabs the plant, finding it more interesting than his hoodie.  
Standing outside his apartment suddenly feels inappropriate, so he invites the boy inside, trying not to think about the cigarette smoke. Hoping that the younger won’t notice is too far-fetched, but he at least hopes he won’t mind.

Minseok hasn’t had anyone over since his girlfriend left him, and he’s uncharacteristically slopped on the cleaning.  
The younger hesitates before making his way into the apartment. Minseok doesn’t miss the way his nose scrunches up, presumably hit by the stale odor of burnt tobacco. The smell is strong, but it doesn’t bother him very much. He supposes he’s become used to living in his own smoke.  
“Want a drink?” He asks, closing the door behind them.

The boy shifts his weight uncomfortably from leg to leg before standing still and staring out the window. He looks… Different. There’s something about him Minseok can’t quite pinpoint. Something pure and beautiful. It makes him want to protect the boy.  
“Sure. You’re… A very kind person, by the way. I’m not sure why you stood up for someone like me, but I really am thankful. Means a lot to me.”

Minseok winces. _Someone like me_.  
“What would you like? Beer? Soju?” It’s all there is in the fridge, aside from a few left-overs. “And what do you mean, _someone like you_?”

The boy tenses up. It takes him a few moments to answer. “Water, please. And… You know, someone like me. A whore.” There’s bitterness in his voice. “A gay whore, at that.”

Minseok has to say, he’d never once thought he would be pouring a glass of water to a gay prostitute in his own apartment, but the way the boy speaks about himself in such a depreciating manner just doesn’t feel right.  
“I don’t think you’re a whore.” He pulls a can of beer out of the fridge. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Prostitution isn’t the best job in the world, he’s aware of it. He also doesn’t believe the boy has much of a choice when it comes to making money. The sadness on his face sits in every fold of his skin. He breathes in fear, and breathes out grief.

The boy thanks him for the glass of water but stays quiet after that. He can tell he’s not used to people treating him this way. It’s sad. Minseok has a hard time feeling much of anything these days, but he still believes that every human should be treated with decency. And this boy clearly wasn’t. In fact, it feels weird knowing he might be the first person in a while to have provided him with comfort and warmth.

“You really are too kind.”  
His voice comes out quiet, meek, wavering. Minseok’s lips twitch down. He looks into his eyes and sees something he can’t describe, something that touches him. The boy must feel so lonely.  
“Do you like what you do?”  
And it’s at this moment that Minseok thinks he’s fucked up. The boy’s lower lip quivers and he looks away, but he can clearly see the way his eyes shine with sadness.  
“I hate it. Every time I walk down the streets, I’m scared I might get jumped o-or… I don’t know. I’m scared I might get kidnapped, I’m scared someone will hurt me… I hate it so much.”  
He doesn’t ask why he keeps doing it. He doesn’t need to know.

Minseok gives him a hug.  
Despite being so tall, the boy feels tiny in his arms as he crumbles into him. Tears seep through the fabric of his shirt and settle on his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Minseok wants to ask if he has anyone he can count on, but the answer is obvious to him.  
All he can do for now is stay there and provide the warmth and comfort he must miss so much. Minseok waits until the other pulls away, then pushes the glass of water back in his hands, urging him to drink.

“Give me your number,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Minseok hopes he’s not crossing a line. The last thing he wants to do is to make the boy uncomfortable. “I don’t think it’s very safe for you out there, so I’d like you to have at least someone you can call if you’re in trouble, okay? I know we’re strangers and all, but… I stood up for you once, so I can do it again, mm?” He cracks a small, genuine smile. “You can text me to let me know that you got home safe. I know where you work, so if you ever are in trouble, I’ll know where to look for you. That night was pretty rough for you, I believe. If you can avoid it again, I think that would be great. Wouldn’t it?”

The look of gratefulness on the boy’s face makes the proposition completely worth it.

 

That night, Sehun sends a text to the man once he gets home, to let him know he’s arrived safely. It’s a bit strange, as there’s something new in his nightly routine, but he doesn’t hate it. He doesn’t hate it at all, in fact. When he receives a brief text wishing him a good night after taking his nightly pills, Sehun thinks he could get used to it. A bit of company. And this time, he doesn’t feel guilty since the feeling seems to be mutual. This is someone who cares about him. And while Sehun still doesn’t know anything about the man, he’s definitely earned his trust.

That night, the boy goes to bed with certain lightness in his heart. It’s unusual, and it feels kind of funny, but he appreciates the fact that he falls asleep quickly, feeling safe and sound.

 

☾

 

After letting the boy go to work, Minseok feels his stomach churn. Taking care of someone is pleasant; it makes him feel alive. However, he dislikes the feeling of worry that settles in his gut, like a rock he swallowed hours ago. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let the boy go back to 588, but what else could he have done? As unfortunate as it is, this is the younger’s job, this is how he makes money to survive. He can’t take that away.

His apartment is quiet again, and there’s way too much on his mind to go back to proofreading those stupid articles. Minseok resorts to drinking, thinking it’ll help him process his day. He drinks the beer he forgot on the counter, then downs another one. And a couple shots of soju. He’s buzzed, tipping on drunk by the end of the night, but it’s not the familiar feeling of helplessness that usually takes over him. He feels a strange sense of calm. He’s able to see through his life, and while he doesn’t see any solution to his situation, it is somewhat grounding.

When his phone buzzes, he quickly opens the younger’s text. Relief settles in his stomach, chasing away the uncomfortable sensation. He’s happy to know that the boy, Sehun, is home safe.  
For once, Minseok feels accomplished.

He goes to bed, and while the idea of tomorrow still doesn’t sound appealing to him, he doesn’t try to fight off the sleep that takes hold of his body.

☾

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while since I last updated this story, I'm very sorry! I tried to put out this chapter months ago but I was just so frustrated ugh. But it's out now! I hope you enjoy it, and hope you have a nice day!


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